


light of uncreated fires

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Forehead Touching, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Suicide, Teacher Bellamy Blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: “How?”“How what?” he stuttered.“How do we recognize each other? In every life? In every new body? You said it’s impossible.”Bellamy stared at her, her eyes still wet and cheeks flushed. “I don’t know.”//Chopped 100 Fanfic Challenge Championship Round Awards:3rd Place Most Unique Soulmate Idea, 3rd Place Most Unique Time Periods, 3rd Place Forehead Touches Trope, 3rd Place Free Space Trope WinnerThank you so much to everyone who read and voted!
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Wells Jaha
Comments: 21
Kudos: 148
Collections: Chopped 2.0 Final Round





	light of uncreated fires

_circa. 1995_

“No way!”

Clarke rolled her eyes at Wells as she settled herself on his ratty couch. His grainy TV blared out yet another rerun of the World Cup and she squinted at the blurry figures.

Wells waved the flimsy piece of paper around like it was a letter from Hogwarts. “Clarke, this is amazing!”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” She hefted her feet up to prop them on the coffee table. “What’s the score?”

“Clarke, how can you not be excited about this?” Wells vaulted over the arm of the couch to sit next to her, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re a Rem!”

Clarke frowned and snatched the piece of paper out of his hand so quickly it almost ripped. “I read the letter, Wells. I don’t know if I even believe in that nonsense.”

His eyes widened almost comically. “But it’s… it’s just fact, Clarke. Some people Remember. They’ve proven it.”

“So they say.” Clarke resisted the urge to crumple up the paper and toss it out the window. “I guess I’ll find out eventually, huh?”

Wells reclined with his hands folded behind his head. “Man, I wish I was you. Imagine… it’s practically like living forever!” He snapped his head up. “I just realized! You’re going to be so smart. Like… even smarter than you are now…”

Clarke groaned and closed her eyes. “Can we please talk about something other than me?”

“Fine, but I want you to know I’m going to be geeking out over you until the day I die.”

Clarke snorted. “You were going to be doing that anyways, right?”

Wells answered her with a predictive shove that made her feel almost normal again.

The buzzer went off twice before Clarke stumbled from her bedroom to answer the door. She hadn’t even taken off her scrubs before collapsing on her bed after a brutal on-call shift. That was… only three hours ago, according to the clock read-out on her microwave.

“Hello?” she croaked, peeking around the edge of her door without unlatching the chain. It probably came across as paranoid, but it also made it easier to shut the door in the face of chattery salesmen.

“Clarke Griffin?” The guy was several years older than her; tall with broad shoulders and dark, curly hair that made his dark freckles stand out against his cheeks. Clarke blinked a few times, half-expecting him to vanish.

“Um… yeah?”

The man gave her a wry smile. “You don’t sound too sure.”

Clarke blinked a few more times, feeling a blush creeping up her jawline. “I mean… yes, that’s me. What can I help you with?”

“I’m your Remembrance Teacher.”

“Shit. I mean…”

She slammed the door and whipped off the security chains so she could open it all the way.

“I’m so sorry! I had this super long shift and I totally forgot you were coming today-”

“Hey, you’re okay,” the man said, holding up his hand placatingly. “I get it.”

Clarke watched, dumbfounded and more than a little half-asleep as he stepped into her dingy apartment. She absently made a mental note that the pile of dirty dishes in her sink was really unattractive before she realized she was still just standing there.

“Um… can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got water and… water?”

The man chuckled a little and then shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m just here to introduce myself and go over some basics.”

“Right.” Clarke seated herself on her single dining chair and waved her guest towards her slightly comfier sofa.

“First things first,” he said as he sat across from her. “You can call me Bellamy.”

“Bellamy,” she said, rolling the name off her tongue. “No last name? Or first name? Or…?”

This time his laugh was a little more robust. “Well, of course. But Bellamy is my Rem name. You’ll get to pick one too. A name that you can keep through all your lifetimes.”

“Oh, okay.” Clarke was rapidly remembering why she’d been dreading this particular appointment. “Look, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I think there must have been some kind of mistake. I’m… just kind of normal.”

Bellamy raised one eyebrow at her and she felt her cheeks redden again. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m normal. Not that you’re not! Or people like you…” she let her voice trail off and decided to shut her mouth and study her fingers.

“You’re right, there could be a mistake,” Bellamy finally said. Clarke jerked her gaze up to meet his stare, but his eyes were warm as he smiled at her. “The test isn’t perfect, Clarke. It only indicates a strong probability that your brain has Remembrance capabilities. The only way to actually know if that’s true is if you die, are reborn and start to remember your first life. But since the probability is so high for you, we want to make sure to prepare you as much as we can for that event. Do you understand?”

Clarke swallowed hard. She didn’t think about reincarnation often. It was something that happened when you died and that was about all there was to think about. But the way that Bellamy talked about it made it seem so casual. He’d obviously become very familiar with everything that being a Rem entailed.

“How many times have you done it?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Bellamy blinked, but didn’t look surprised. “I stopped counting after twenty. But at least three times that the number.”

Clarke couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “But that means you’re…. how old are you?”

Bellamy shrugged. “One of the things we’ll cover in your training is that it’s much easier if you don’t keep track.”

“Easier?”

“Less… depressing.” Bellamy folded his hands together. “Psychological aspects of being a Rem are the number one reason we formed the Coalition. Together we can support each other through each and every lifetime.”

It sounded like he was quoting something and Clarke suspected that the same sentence was written in the informational packet the Coalition mailed her several weeks earlier. Too bad she immediately tossed it in the trash.

“Look… Bellamy,” she sighed. “I’m sorry if this sounds super bitchy, but I’m sleep deprived and I kind of hate all the lingo you guys spout off. If you’re going to be my teacher, can you just be honest with me? Like just straight up, tell me what I’m dealing with.”

It was the first thing she said that seemed to crack him a little. His brow wrinkled and his eyes darkened as he leaned forward.

“Fine,” he said, a hint of bite in his voice. “The truth? Remembering your past lives hurts. Your memories come back little by little as your brain develops. For some that’s earlier than others. It doesn’t matter if nothing traumatic happened to you, remembering is trauma enough. Knowing that the people you loved are gone and you won’t ever see them again. Knowing that you will keep repeating this cycle forever, while everyone else around you will eventually find peace. You need this training and you need the Coalition because otherwise, you’ll be insane by the end of your second life. Got it, princess?”

The little sneer in his tone at the end made her press her lips together hard to keep from snapping back. “I got it.”

“Good.” He stood abruptly and tossed her a thick, manila envelope that she barely managed to catch. “I marked the calendar in there with a schedule and locations for your training sessions. Be there.”

“Right,” Clarke muttered as her apartment shuddered with the force of Bellamy slamming the door behind him. Of course she managed to piss off one of the only people she was going to know for the rest of eternity.

For almost a year, Rem training consisted of what basically amounted to therapy for things that hadn’t happened yet. Between that and her internship at the hospital, Clarke barely had a moment to breathe. Wells constantly badgered her about “the angry, hot teacher”, usually until she threw a pillow in his face or shoved him off the couch. And Bellamy pushed her buttons until she was practically running out the door at the end of each session.

“This can’t be worth it,” she mumbled one afternoon after a particularly depressing lecture from Bellamy on the different processes of grieving she was likely to experience.

Unfortunately, she was a little louder than she intended.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t know you had someplace better to be. It’s not like this is the rest of your existence we’re talking about here.”

Clarke groaned. “Forget it, Bellamy. I’m just in a bad mood.”

He stared at her a for a few long moments. “How is that any different than normal?”

Clarke glared at him. “Look, I’m sorry I insulted your stupid Coalition and I’m sorry that I’m exhausted from wasting my first life listening to you ramble on about how depressing the rest of them are going to be and I’m sorry that my mom came over the other day and all I could think about was how someday I’m going to remember her and she won’t remember me!”

She realized suddenly that she was yelling and she bit her tongue to stop herself from continuing. The silence was deafening. Bellamy’s office suddenly felt too small. She pushed herself up from her seat and made for the door.

“Wait.” He reached out and touched her arm, lightly, just enough to make her pause.

Bellamy sighed. “Let’s try something different for the rest of the day.”

The firing range was empty other than Clarke and Bellamy. She raised an eyebrow at him as he carefully selected a rifle from a cabinet full of guns.

“Shooting? How is this supposed to help me with anything?”

He shrugged. “Stress relief?”

Clarke glared at him as he hefted the rifle to his shoulder, trying to ignore how nice he looked even with safety glasses and bulky headphones.

“I’m serious.”

Bellamy fired a round, the sound echoing in the empty room, loud even through Clarke’s headphones.

He ejected the spent clip and seemed to adjust his aim slightly. “One of the aspects of training we haven’t covered yet is self-defense.”

He shot again and Clarke saw the target at the other end of the range waver slightly with the force of the bullet.

“Self-defense?”

“The likelihood of you finding yourself in a violent situation is substantially multiplied when you live forever,” Bellamy said, deadpan.

“Oh.”

A third bullet struck the target and Bellamy dropped his arms, rolling his neck before holding out the rifle.

“Don’t I need a license for this?”

“This is a teaching environment. I’m not going to let you carry the gun out at the end.”

Clarke squinted at him. “I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “If you want to see the large number of licenses I’ve acquired over the last few thousand years, I’d be happy to show you.”

“Thousand…”

“Just take the gun, Clarke.”

She accepted it, the weight catching her off guard. She held it to her shoulder, feeling a slight thrill of excitement as she looked down the sight.

“Okay, find your target and then squeeze the trigger gently. There will be kickback, so don’t try to push back too hard.”

Clarke breathed out and let her finger gently press the trigger.

Even braced for it, the thunderous jolt nearly sent her careening backwards. The target rippled with the impact of her bullet, nearly dead center.

She could feel the smile stretching across her face impulsively. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Bellamy repeated, matching her smile.

Clarke chewed her lip, trying to contain her excitement. “Is it bad that that felt good?”

“No. Sometimes it’s good to feel powerful.” He winked at her. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Right.” Clarke settled the rifle back against her shoulder trying to adjust her aim. “Do you have to do this a lot? Self-defense?”

She pulled the trigger and the target wavered again.

Bellamy crossed his arms. “More than I’d like.”

“Yeah, but you just get to reincarnate and remember everything anyways. Why go to all the trouble?”

Bellamy scoffed. “You make it sound like dying is a fun experience. It still sucks.”

“Oh…” Clarke let the gun droop towards the ground, feeling sheepish. “Sorry…”

Bellamy waved his hand distractedly. “It’s okay. You still haven’t asked some of the most stupid questions I’ve ever heard.”

“Well now you definitely have to tell me what the stupidest question you’ve heard is.”

Bellamy sighed at her eager grin. “I mean, there was the time some idiot ran up to me on the street when I was still a kid and demanded to know if I was his husband. Thankfully, a grown man yelling at a nine year old boy in public drew some attention pretty quickly.”

Clarke’s grin faded. “Ew… I’m so sorry.”

Bellamy shrugged. “It’s not even the worst thing that’s happened.”

“So… were you the husband?”

Bellamy let out an unexpected laugh. “No and I hadn’t even started remembering my past lives yet at that point. Still a little too young. So you can imagine my confusion.”

Clarke pursed her lips as she tried to imagine and Bellamy chuckled again. His laugh was a good sound. She realized she wanted to hear it again.

“So what was the guy’s deal?” she asked, trying to draw out the moment. “He really thought he recognized you?”

“My guess is he was just overcome with grief and not thinking straight,” Bellamy said. “No one can actually recognize a past life in a new body.”

“No one? Ever?”

Bellamy narrowed his gaze at her. “No one ever. I can promise you that.”

Clarke looked away feeling strangely embarrassed. “You just hear stories sometimes you know? About like soulmates finding each other again or whatever.”

“They’re just stories.” Bellamy’s voice was hard and Clarke winced at the sudden shift in tone. “Believe me, I would know if it were at all possible.”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Clarke muttered. She dragged the toe of her shoe awkwardly behind her, unwilling to meet Bellamy’s eyes. “I was just curious.”

She heard Bellamy’s long breath and she could perfectly picture his mask of calm slipping back into place.

“It’s okay,” he finally said, the familiar warmth back in his voice. The tightness in her throat eased just a little.

“We should get back to training,” Bellamy said, guiding the gun back to her shoulder and forcing her to finally look up at him. He grinned encouragingly at her. “Ready to be a badass, Clarke?”

And for some reason, she couldn’t help but smile back.

Bellamy used his entire body as a shield for Clarke as they walked into the Ark. Clarke usually would have scoffed at him and walked on ahead by herself, but the protestors gathered outside the Coalition’s headquarters were genuinely frightening. Glass bottles and garbage flew through the air, threatening anyone walking in and out. Security guards stood close by the doors, but the first few steps from the street were a tense no-man’s land.

“Unnatural freaks!”

“Repent and let go of your past!”

“The gods offer you peace!”

“Let our ancestors rest, you scum!”

“Mutants!”

Bellamy rushed Clarke the last bit of the way so that they were practically jogging through the glass double doors into the Ark lobby. Clarke stopped and let out a huff, trying not to betray the panicked beating of her heart.

“Remind me again what their problem is?”

Bellamy brushed at some sort of garbage stain on his coat sleeve with a look of annoyance. “We’ve had protestors for years. A lot of people think it’s unnatural that we can remember our past lives. Some of them think it’s unfair. Others just want to know that their loved ones are resting peace instead of dealing with the trauma of Remembrance.”

“That all sounds nice, but you’d think they’d come up with a more convincing argument than throwing things,” Clarke spat, watching the crowd outside warily. “They’ve never tried attacking?”

“Oh, they have,” Bellamy said, lightly. “Never succeeded.”

He started walking at a fast clip through the lobby and Clarke stumbled to keep up. The Ark was a stunning building, with the lower levels mostly constructed of shining steel that perfectly showcased the modern architecture. The lack of windows on the first floor was offset by the glass domed roof over the central hub of the building that let in more than enough sunshine. Clarke felt like she was walking through an outdoor courtyard as she followed Bellamy towards a row of elevators.

Their ride to the sixth out of thirteen floors was fairly quiet. Clarke fidgeted with the bright blue scarf she’d thrown on at the last minute, wondering if it clashed too much with her dress. She realized Bellamy was staring at her out of the corner of his eye and she finally put her hands down at her sides, determined not to let him see her squirm. She caught a brief glimpse of his knowing smirk just as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into a library.

At least, it looked a library. Floor to ceiling shelving units stretched as far as Clarke could see. The lighting was dim, most of it coming from glowing computer screens at the end of each row of shelves. Dozens of people hustled back and forth through the rows, never even sparing a glimpse for the new arrivals.

Bellamy winked at her. “What do you think of the database?”

“This is all…?”

“Rem files.” He led her forward, proudly waving his arm across the view. “Every Rem registered with the Coalition can access all of their info from past lives here. Exact memories, locations of stored items, licenses, bank accounts. It’s all here.”

“Wow.” She followed him almost timidly as they walked the perimeter of the huge room. “I mean, I knew it would be a lot, but I guess I couldn’t quite picture it.”

“It’s constantly expanding too. And even with technology getting more and more efficient, we can hardly downsize our servers before we have to add another bank for more storage space.”

As he spoke, Clarke watched as a couple of men in technician uniforms carefully pulled a long black box off of one of the shelves. As they pried open the side, she caught a glimpse of tangles of wires and memory boards.

“Come on, Clarke. We’ll be back out here shortly for you to officially start your account,” Bellamy urged her forward. She forced herself to keep moving, head whirling.

Bellamy led her quickly to the adjacent wall, where a row of smooth wooden doors awaited. As she drew closer she made out the name etched on the closest door: Marcus Kane.

Bellamy knocked on the door and without even waiting for an answer opened it and pulled her in smoothly. Clarke barely had time for a flash of nervousness before she was facing the Vice President of the Remembrance Coalition himself.

Marcus Kane stood at his window, hands clasped easily behind his back. A large desk sat in the center of the room, not a pencil out of place. A single bonsai tree in the corner provided a flash of color against the cream walls.

Kane gave her a smile that seemed genuine enough, but couldn’t hold a candle to Bellamy’s usual grin. Clarke scolded herself internally for letting her teacher distract her again as she stepped closer to shake Kane’s hand.

“You must be Clarke Griffin?” he asked. His handshake was firm and gave her a little boost of confidence.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, the words not nearly as meek as she’d feared. She could practically feel the radiance of Bellamy’s encouraging smile from behind.

“We’re always pleased to see a new face around here,” Kane said, with a little chuckle that seemed to indicate an inside joke. She heard Bellamy’s muffled laugh behind her as well.

“Bellamy has been an excellent teacher, sir,” Clarke hurried to say.

Kane gave the other man a knowing smile. “That he is. You were very lucky to have him. Now that you’ve completed your introductory year of training, you won’t need to have lessons as often, but he will definitely continue to be your mentor here at the Coalition.”

“If you ever need anything, reach out to me,” Bellamy interjected. Clarke felt an odd tug of longing as she realized their regular lessons were coming to an end, but she shoved the feeling away to deal with later.

“Now, Dakota, if I could have a quick word with you before…”

“Wait? Dakota?” Clarke spit out, forgetting all decorum in her surprise.

Kane stopped mid-sentence, cheeks tinged red. Bellamy fumed.

“Kane…”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Dakota Blake?” Clarke demanded, spinning to face Bellamy. The storm brewing in his eyes warned her to back away, but she was still reeling from the information.

“You’re the president of the Coalition?” she asked, marching straight up to stand toe to toe with her mentor. “You?”

Bellamy shot another glare at Kane. “Yes. And the founder, so let’s just get that out there.”

“But… but you…” The words fumbled on her tongue. Bellamy was _the_ Dakota Blake. _The_ Dakota Blake sat in her crumby apartment, three feet away from a sink full of dirty dishes. Wells was going to have a heart attack.

Before anyone could say anything else, an alarm started beeping from Kane’s pocket. He pulled out a pager and pushed a button. “Yes?”

“Sir, we have a situation downstairs with the protestors.”

“I’ll be right there,” Kane said. He quickly slipped past Bellamy and Clarke without a word.

Bellamy crossed his arms. “Alright, what do you want to ark?”

“Nothing! I…” Clarke still couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. “Why are you out doing fieldwork? I don’t understand.”

“I like it,” Bellamy offered shortly.

Clarke crossed her own arms. “I’m just surprised, okay? It’s not like this was ever a possibility that crossed my mind.”

“Well, put it back out of your mind,” Bellamy growled. “I’m still just Bellamy.”

Clarke stared him down, her frustration with all the secrecy burning at the back of her throat. Bellamy looked away first, turning to the door.

“Come on, we might as well get your account started.”

The server library was eerily quiet as they left Kane’s office. In fact, there were no more people hurrying up and down the dark aisles. Clarke pressed closer to Bellamy, despite herself. He seemed more tense as well, his steps carefully measured as they walked towards one of the computers.

A dull rumble came from somewhere else in the building and Clarke could have sworn she felt the floor shake. She stopped in her tracks just as Bellamy did the same. They both stood frozen for a mere second.

Then another low rumbling sound shook the floor and this time it was enough that Clarke lost her balance. Bellamy grabbed her hand and started running. She didn’t have time to question it, she simply followed. Their feet pounded hard on the thinly carpeted floor as they ran past the bank of elevators, past the rows upon rows of computer servers, all the way to an exit door on the far wall. Bellamy threw it open with his shoulder, barely slowing his pace.

They stumbled out onto one of the catwalks that stretched over the lobby, sunlight from the glass dome above warming Clark’s skin. She coughed and then coughed again, pressing her sleeve tightly against her mouth. The air was filled with smoke, drifting up from the main floor. Bellamy grabbed the protective railing frantically, leaning over to try and see the commotion below.

Clarke hunched herself closer to the ground, trying to catch her breath without inhaling too much of the acrid smoke.

“Bellamy?”

“They’re inside!” He sounded frantic. Unprepared. It scared her more than anything else.

“Who is?”

“Those fucking terrorists from outside!” he snarled. He hauled her upright and all but dragged her across the catwalk. Clarke caught glimpses of figures below with bulky breathing masks over their faces. Looming in and out of the smoke and flames licking across the lobby, they looked like disfigured monsters. They were fanning out quickly. One of them pointed upwards towards her and Bellamy and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“Bellamy…”

He turned to look back at her and for a few seconds, she saw her pure terror reflected in his own eyes. But then he flashed her one of his trademark confident grins. “Don’t worry, Princess. We’ve got this.”

They threw open the next door to the emergency stairwell and Bellamy didn’t hesitate before sprinting up. Clarke took a second to glance at the downwards flight and was immediately treated with the sound of echoing shouts from the masked figures. She leapt three stairs at a time until she was caught up with Bellamy and together they kept running.

Every floor, the smoke and the flames chased them upwards. The men in masks poured into the building, infiltrating every level. Dull rumbles of explosives going off continued to punctuate their harsh breathing. Clarke ripped her scarf in half and passed half to Bellamy so they both had something to tie across their face. It wasn’t perfect, but it kept the smoke from choking them as they climbed higher.

It wasn’t until they burst out of the roof access door that Clarke started to doubt Bellamy’s instincts.

He paced in front of her, like a caged animal. Just beyond him the huge glass dome bubbled up through the center of the roof, painted ashen grey on the inside now.

Clarke doubled over and tried to catch her breath. “Bellamy..?”

“I’m thinking,” he snapped, pacing faster as he drew closer to the edge of the roof. Clarke stumbled a little closer, not wanting to be left behind whenever he decided what to do.

The access door splintered as it was kicked open roughly and masked men spilled out. Clarke and Bellamy both brought their hands up above their heads, backs to the open air.

“It’s okay, Clarke,” Bellamy said lowly. She realized belatedly that she was shaking.

“What do you want?” Bellamy yelled at their pursuers. The masks merely seemed to bobble as they looked at each other and back at their prey.

Clarke felt a chill run down her spine.

Bellamy closed his eyes and took a small step backwards. “Don’t come any closer if you want us alive!” he screamed. Clarke glanced down as his left foot hovered completely off the edge of the building.

“Bellamy, what are you doing!” she yelled.

“We have to,” he whispered. The men drew closer. A noose drawing tighter around them.

“Listen to me, Clarke,” Bellamy whispered frantically, never looking at her. “We die and we’ll remember. We’ll wake up and remember and then we can figure out how to save everyone else from these people. All the other Rems. The database.”

Clarke peeked behind them and immediately looked away. The sheer height of the building made her dizzy.

“No, Bellamy! It’s wrong,” she hissed. “We can’t just kill ourselves. There has to be some other way.”

“There’s not!” he spat back at her, a little louder. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

Clarke took a chance and darted her hand out to grab at his sleeve. He finally whipped his head towards her, eyes wide.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

His jaw clenched in pain. “Then follow me.”

He yanked his sleeve from her hand and before she could even cry out, he took one more step back and dropped.

Clarke screamed. She fell to her knees, reaching her hands off into empty space as if she could still grab him. There was so much smoke that she couldn’t see his body on the ground, but it didn’t matter. She felt his absence right down to her bones.

The masked men swooped on her, pinning her to the ground and twisting her arms behind her. She vaguely thought of the self-defense lessons Bellamy ingrained in her, but she felt numb. She imagined herself floating and watching from afar as the terrorists duct taped her mouth and hauled her back down thirteen stories out into an armored car full of other Rems. A morose looking Marcus Kane lay bound on the floor next to her. The bodies of other Rems littered the ruined Ark, some simply too tough to subdue and some who decided, like Bellamy, to take their memories to the grave.

But Clarke felt no fear. She simply felt nothing as they slammed the doors of the truck shut and drove away.

Mount Weather was the name of the testing facility. The terrorists called themselves the Mountain Men. That was about all she really knew.

Clarke faded in and out of sleep. Sometimes she dreamt of her mom and Wells. They would be terrified when they heard about the attack. Devastated.

Sometimes, she dreamt of Bellamy. She was sure that years had passed in her darkened haze. He would be a boy now. Growing up again. Soon he would remember.

She tried to hold on to that hope, but then the scientists bent over her again with needles pricking at her skin and the fog came rushing back around her, making it impossible to hold onto anything. She tried to make out the hushed whispers that hung around her, but the words were slippery and all the wrong shapes.

She started to long for the fog because without it, everything was too sharp, too real. She held up her arm in the harsh light and it looked like the thin skin was about to peel off the bones like wrapping paper. She tried to laugh, but when she opened her mouth what came out was a shaking sob.

The doors opened with a loud clang behind her. She tried to crane her neck, searching for the scientists in their pristine coats.

“Please…” she cried. “It hurts.”

The young man who hurried across the sterile room to her bedside was wearing the telltale white coat of a lab doctor, but he was far too young to be one of her normal tormentors. An apprentice. He nervously flipped through the chart hanging from the foot of her bed, refusing to look up at her as her pained chokes grew more frantic.

“Please!”

Finally, the young man looked up and as their eyes met, the last remnants of fog dropped from Clarke’s mind.

“Bellamy?”

It was impossible. The name tag hanging from his neck read “Hi, My Name Is Alvin”. He was far too skinny, skin as white as Clarke’s own. His face was too narrow with too many sharp angles highlighting his sunken eyes and the veins on his neck. But somehow, Clarke saw Bellamy as clear as day.

And if there was any doubt she was imagining things it was driven away as the boy’s eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. “Clarke?” he whispered and in his teenaged voice she still heard the reverberations of the strength, the warmth, the laughter, and the fury of the Bellamy she once knew.

“Bellamy.” She smiled and the fog enveloped her again. For the first time in years, everything was right again. “You came.”

“Clarke, hold on,” he said distantly. “Hold on.”

“It’s okay, Bell,” she murmured. “You saved me. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Then the darkness came.

_circa. 2027_

“Coe, come on!” Raven whined, bouncing up and down frantically. “We’re going to be late.”

“Just one sec!”

“Cooooooooeeee….” Raven groaned in the exaggerated fashion that only a thirteen year old could pull off.

Cohen took one last look in the mirror to make sure that her long blonde waves were adequately tamed. Splashes of rainbow from the paintings and drawings from the wall behind her brightened the reflection and helped her relax just a little.

“Coe, I swear if you aren’t out here in three seconds I’m going to leave without you.”

Cohen scrambled for her backpack and lunch bag. “Wait, wait, I’m coming!”

Raven tossed her dark ponytail over one shoulder carelessly. “It’s just middle school. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

Cohen looped her thumbs through her backpack straps as she matched her friend’s quick pace down the long hallway that made up the main street of their ward. “I’m not nervous. Just… wondering what to expect.”

“Trust me,” Raven scoffed airily. “The only difference is that the boys are _so_ much more annoying.”

“Wow, I see how it is, Reyes.”

Raven’s face lit up as she spun around the corner to the source of the voice. “Finn!”

She leapt into the boy’s open arms, giggling as he lifted her completely off the floor.

Cohen crossed her arms pretending to pout. “I knew she was the favorite.”

Finn dramatically shoved Raven aside and scooped Coe up instead, even dropping a kiss to her forehead. She pushed him away laughing and swiping at the kiss mark. “Gross, Finn!”

“Just showing you some love,” he said with a wink and a smirk. “Gotta keep my girls happy.”

“We’re not your girls,” Raven shot back, punching him in the shoulder. “So cut it out with the douchebag act.”

Coe grimaced. “Raven…”

“You’re going to hear much worse at school, Coe,” Raven brushed her off with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, we’re really going to be late now!”

The Mount Weather middle school was a large conglomerate of attached rooms and passageways three floors below the actual science facility. Of the three kids, only Finn had ever even been outside the facility and that was only because his dad was one of the truck drivers who helped bring in new shipments of goods for research. But Mount Weather boasted top of the line amenities on site; everything a dedicated researcher would need to move their entire family into the facility.

As they neared the school, Coe felt a slight wave of dizziness. Strange visions flashed through her head of a young man with dark skin and hair reclining on a couch next to her as they watched television together and threw pillows at each other. She blinked and the vision was gone.

“Hey, are you okay?” Finn asked, eyes creased with concern.

Coe wobbled a little and shook the cobwebs from her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been having… a lot of weird dreams lately.”

“See! You _are_ nervous!” Raven crowed. She bumped Coe affectionately with her shoulder. “Keep close to me and I’ll show you the ropes. I promise.”

“Okay,” Cohen agreed, deciding it was easier than denying her nervousness again. She followed Raven closely as they entered the middle school main room. Dozens of kids were buzzing anxiously in small cliques and knots around the room. Raven directed Finn and Coe to the set of lockers against the far wall.

“You both know your number, right?”

“Yep,” Finn said, slinging his bag casually into a locker and examining the plain metal interior. “I’m definitely going to need some posters to spice this up.”

Raven rolled her eyes again.

Coe opened her locker carefully, feeling almost reverent as she slid her backpack inside. She was practically an adult now. The moment deserved a little respect.

Finn was right about the lockers needing decorating. Coe closed her eyes, envisioning the paintings she could do for the locker. Maybe a sunset or a sky full of stars for the back wall, with flowers and birds for the door. She’d only seen them in pictures herself, but when she painted them, the colors were so vibrant she could almost see them springing to life in front of her.

A flash and she felt the warmth of a yellow sunbeam on her shoulders. Her best friend Wells held out a red flower for her to smell and she laughed as it tickled her nose.

Coe tilted forward and banged her head hard on the locker door.

“Whoa!” Raven grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. “Coe?”

Cohen’s heart was racing. “Wells?”

Raven blinked at her. “Well, what?”

“I…” The face and the name faded quickly and she blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. I just got really dizzy again.”

“Do you need to go to the nurse?” This time it was Finn again, crowding over her. Raven pressed her lips together in disapproval. Coe carefully took two steps away from both her friends.

“I’m fine, Finn. Honestly.” She gave Raven a firm nod. “Thanks for the help.”

“Of course.” Raven still didn’t look entirely convinced, but Coe brushed her aside as they hurried to sit down for their first assembly of the school year.

Raven was right about the classes being almost the same. Coe and Finn breezed through the first day. It didn’t hurt that Raven was a study partner who was a genius in her own right.

As they walked home, Finn animatedly described how one of the other boys tried to goad him into a fight and Raven predictably laughed at his antics while Coe mused on artwork ideas. Suddenly, she pulled up short. Visions flashed relentlessly in her mind’s eye. Long shifts at a hospital, a shooting range with a rifle in her arms, Bellamy grabbing her hand as they ran through the Ark.

When her eyes flickered back open she was lying flat on her back with Raven and Finn both hovering over her, eyes wide with fear.

“That’s it, we’re taking you to the doctor,” Raven announced, hoisting Coe up with one hand firmly around her wrist.

Cohen wanted to argue, but she was exhausted and her heart was racing a mile a minute so she decided to bite her tongue as her friends propelled her towards the local clinic. Her head spun as they helped her stagger to a seat in the crowded waiting room. Around her, other patients from the local ward huddled, waiting hours for the chance to see the volunteer doctor. As Raven marched up to the front desk to explain the situation, Coe shrank into her seat, trying to keep her breathing even.

The visions made no sense, one second clear as day and the next so dim they looked like shadows. It felt like someone else was injecting their memories into her head, forcing her to watch them.

She curled tighter as they swam through her mind again, not all of them pleasant. A sterile white room appeared, a lot like the science labs upstairs, and pain coursed through her body as men in long coats surrounded her, syringes springing from their hands. It felt like a nightmare, but more real than any dream.

She rocked back and forth slightly, trying desperately to think of something normal. Finn tried to keep a comforting hand on her arm, but it sent pinpricks through her skin so she shrugged him off.

The door to the back room opened with a soft click.

“Mrs. Emerson?” the doctor called out, just loud enough to be heard over the soft chatter in the waiting room.

As an elderly woman got to her feet, Coe finally peeked up long enough to see the doctor. He wasn’t one of the older men that usually volunteered at the clinic. In fact, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen him before. He was pale, the glasses balanced on his sharp nose only making his face look even more angular.

His lanky frame stirred another vision in her mind and as he turned to look at her suddenly everything clicked into place at light speed. Wells and her mom, Bellamy gently guiding her arms in the shooting range, Bellamy tipping over the edge of the Ark roof, Bellamy’s new face staring at her with a mix of horror and surprise just before she…

She died.

Coe leaned over and vomited all over the cheap waiting room carpet. Several other patients, including Raven, jumped away from the mess with sounds of disgust. The doctor hurried over quickly, gently moving Coe back into a reclined position.

“Hey, just breathe. You’re going to be….” His voice trailed off as he finally met her gaze directly and something flickered in his eyes.

“Clarke,” he whispered.

She was dizzy and shivering and wanted nothing more than to lean over and throw up again, but instead she leaned forward against his chest with a whimper. “Bellamy.”

He tightened his arms around her and whisked her up. As some other patients voiced their disapproval, Clarke was vaguely aware of Bellamy reassuring them, but her thoughts were careening out of control and she couldn’t focus on more than one thing at a time.

She tried to turn all her focus to the sound of Bellamy’s heartbeat. It was a comforting steady sound against her ear and she let it drown out the clamoring voices from a hundred memories.

When she turned her attention outward again, Bellamy was softly setting her on a small cot in the very back of the office. She whimpered at the loss of his arms, but he soothingly brushed back a long strand of her hair.

“It’s okay, Clarke,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

The words were sharp and soft all at once and she winced.

“I’m… I’m not… I mean, I am Clarke, but…” Tears sprang to her eyes, the thoughts tangling themselves in knots.

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he quickly said. He ran a comforting hand along her arm and she instinctively melted towards his touch.

“What is your name? Can you tell me that?”

“Cohen,” she said faintly. It felt like an anchor to hold onto, but a lie all the same.

“Cohen,” he repeated gently. “That’s a pretty name. Are your parents out there?”

She shook her head. “Just my friends, Raven and Finn.”

“Would you like them to come sit with you?”

She screwed her eyelids shut, trying to sort through the flood of emotions. “They don’t… I mean.. they can’t understand…”

“I know, but sometimes it helps anyways,” Bellamy said. “Do you still trust me?”

Amidst the whirlwind of chaos that her brain had become she was very sure of one consistent thread. She did trust Bellamy.

She gave him a slight nod and he smiled. “I’ll bring them back. I won’t tell them exactly what’s going on, but just having them here might make you feel better. And then I’ll be back as soon as I take care of my other patients.”

“Okay.” As he turned to go she grabbed for his head. “Bellamy, don’t leave me again.”

His eyes softened. “I won’t, Clarke. I promise.”

The first few weeks were hell. Clarke’s head ached almost constantly from the influx of memories. The visions that were once dim dreams became fully-fledged nightmares. It was hard to act normal around her friends, but thanks to Bellamy’s urging she doggedly continued to try.

Bellamy. Her one bright spot. He stopped by every evening after his shift in the labs. Officially, he was monitoring her to make sure her “acute migraines” settled down. Unofficially, he coached her through the Remembrance.

The whole idea of fate bringing her teacher back to her just in time was not lost on her, but she wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

She also wasn’t sure how to ask exactly how Bellamy had recognized her. Or she him. Anytime she even tried to approach the subject, he looked scared and that wasn’t like Bellamy at all.

It was easier to let it go.

As she started feeling more stable, he filled her in on his own past in bits and pieces. Told her about how he moved with his father to Mount Weather when he was only six or seven. By the time he started to Remember, he was already well embedded with the Mountain Men. He decided to pursue an apprenticeship under his father in hopes of finding out more.

“And that’s around the time when I found you the first time.”

Clarke kept her eyes glued on the small carved deer in her palm. Finn carved it for her, back when she was just Cohen. She turned it over in her hands, the feel of the cold metal on her skin reminding her that at least this was real.

“I know you remember.” Bellamy’s voice was harsher than usual. Clarke glared up at him.

“Of course I do. And it was terrible. Full stop.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He was seated on the floor, doctor’s bag by his side.

“I’m just trying to help you work through it.”

Clarke sighed and flopped back on her bed. “I know.”

“I didn’t even realize you were here or I would have tried to find you earlier.” The genuine pain in his voice made her sit up halfway to look him in the eye. His jaw trembled ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

She wanted to pound her fists on the floor and kick and scream until everything went away. She wanted to kick and scream at _him_ for jumping off that damn building and leaving her to suffer alone. But instead she took a deep breath and gave him a short nod.

“I know.”

Bellamy tilted his chin back to stare at the low ceiling. “I was just sneaking through the experimental rooms. Trying to figure out what they were doing with… the Rems.”

Clarke closed her eyes, fighting back flashes of needles and jabbing pain. “I can’t even remember what they did to me. It was all a blur.”

“They had you all drugged pretty heavily. And then they just… cut you open.” Bellamy shuddered. “When I found you on that table, half your skull was cut off and they had all sorts of needles and wires connected to your brain.”

Clarke chewed the inside of her cheek, feeling morbidly interested. “I couldn’t feel any of that.”

“Like I said, heavily drugged.” Bellamy wiggled outstretched feet, stretchy his legs. “Even after all these years, I’m not quite sure what they’re studying. Obviously something to do with the Remembrance ability. But I have no idea what or what they want to do with it. Everything here is compartmentalized. It’s maddening.”

“It’s smart,” Clarke corrected, without thinking. Bellamy met her eyes and his lips quirked into a wry smile.

“It is.”

Clarke traced one of the rainbow streaks on her comforter. “Even if you did find out what they were doing, what would happen then?”

Bellamy leaned closer, voice growing even softer. “I’m not the only infiltrator in the Mountain. There’s a thin network of us. Enough to pass messages to the outside. I hear news back every once in a while. Congress just needs enough evidence of terrorist activity here and they can shut the facility down.”

Clarke scoffed. “You yourself told me that they didn’t do anything after the Ark burned to the ground. They even protected these bastards.”

Bellamy grinned slightly at her language. “That was a different government. And we’ve had years of gathering evidence that we can put to work in our favor now.”

“What about Vice President Wallace? Isn’t he an open supporter of the Mountain Men?”

“True, but I also told you about President Jaha and his very adamant campaign for the rights of the Rems, right?”

Clarke huffed and crossed her arms tossing herself back onto her bed again. “_I know_. That President used to be my best friend. I’m just… worried that you’re being too confident.”

Bellamy bristled. “Look, just because the terrorists got the jump on me back at the Ark doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve spent over a thousand years building safeguards into this system. I poured everything into the Coalition. It won’t fail us now.”

They were silent for minute except for Clarke’s feet bumping the leg of her bed restlessly.

“Why did you start the Coalition?” she asked.

Bellamy sighed. “Clarke…”

“I’m having the month from hell. The least you could do is finally answer some more of my stupid questions.”

Bellamy grunted.

Clarke waited expectantly.

“I had a sister,” he said slowly. “A long time ago.”

He hesitated. Clarke resisted the urge to thump her feet some more.

“I woke up one night in a different lifetime with all these memories of her,” Bellamy said. “And I couldn’t stand it. So I went looking.”

“I thought you said not to try…” Clarke’s voice trailed off. “I’m sorry…”

Bellamy shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly like that. I found out much later that she was a Rem too.”

Clarke furrowed her brow. “Wow. So you guys got lucky.”

Bellamy studied his hands. “Yeah, something like that.”

“So… you must have found her?”

Bellamy looked at her, a sadness in his eyes that she couldn’t read, and then slowly got to his feet. “I should head home. It’s late.”

Clarke bit her lip.

As he neared the doorway he paused. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“I found you. I think that makes it all worthwhile.”

Everyone in high school got used to the genius Raven Reyes soaring determinedly to the head of every class. Every test was aced, every project a work of perfection. By senior year, there was a waiting list to be her lab partner. Finn and Clarke rolled their eyes and kept their heads down.

“We’ll let Raven do the hard work and then we’ll all live like kings once she gets a cushy job up top,” Finn liked to say.

Clarke laughed and did shots with him under the stairwell because she already remembered calculus from the first time around and she had no desire to take it again. Plus, Finn was pretty cute. Even if he didn’t admit that he had a thing for Raven until _after_ they made out.

Clarke wasn’t sure what Bellamy’s “network” was accomplishing, but nothing on the inside seemed to change, even as the years rolled by. And as long as she didn’t slip up and reveal that she Remembered, living in Mount Weather wasn’t half bad.

So it was more than a little annoying when Bellamy woke her up in the middle of the night, three days before graduation. She yanked on her sweatpants and a pair of worn tennis shoes so she could step outside and grouse at him without waking her parents.

“This couldn’t wait til morning?” she groaned immediately.

“Nope.” Bellamy threw a bag over her shoulder and shoved her forward down the hall. Clarke let her feet stumble along, still shaking off sleep.

“Bellamy, seriously.”

“You’re not supposed to call me that out here,” he automatically snapped back.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Fine, _Doctor Alvin_. What the hell are you doing? I have school tomorrow.”

“Not anymore.” He hit the button on the door and it slid open with a familiar hiss. Clarke shook off his hands before he could push her into the stairwell.

“What do you mean, not anymore?” she demanded.

Bellamy tried to propel her forward again. “No time to explain. We need to move…”

“No!”

Bellamy took a step back and cocked his eyebrow at her. “No?”

Clarke crossed her arms. “Last time, I blindly followed you and we both died in the end. This time, I want explanations first.” She didn’t have to elaborate on what she meant by last time.

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. Your little friend, Raven, got the internship she was after.”

“That’s… that’s great,” Clarke said. “She’s been talking about going top level for years.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen her test scores and her essays. She’s too good,” Bellamy said roughly.

“Too good?”

“Yeah and some of her essay material was about… you, Clarke.”

Clarke’s mouth went dry. “Me?”

“She did some research for a project into how the Remembrance would manifest in an inexperienced Rem. And then she started drawing comparisons to what she witnessed… from you.”

Clarke’s mind went blank.

“When she passed along the project as part of her qualification material, Doctor Tsing took special interest in it. Not only did she immediately approve Raven’s position, but she also ordered that you be brought in for…. Interviewing.”

Goosebumps crawled across Clarke’s arms. “Raven would never…”

“She didn’t know,” Bellamy said quickly. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her up the first stair. “But now you have to go.”

“Go? Bellamy… how?” Clarke stuttered.

“I’m going to create an opening for you. Go to the shipping docks, but stay up top and watch the dam.”

“I’m leaving alone?” she cried, too loudly. Bellamy threw his hand over her mouth and she forced herself to take two deep breaths through her nose before he let go.

“I have to stay, Clarke,” he said sharply. “I can still keep passing information. And I have to get you out.”

“You promised,” she whispered desperately.

Bellamy pressed his lips together, jaw tensed. “Go, Clarke. Go now.”

She cried as she ran up the stairs. In the pre-dawn hours the security patrols were light and she dodged them easily. The loading dock was busier than most other areas, with drivers like Finn’s father loading up their trucks to head back out before sunrise.

Mount Weather’s self-sustaining energy came partially from their impressive hydro-electric dam. A section of that dam bridged directly across the loading dock, providing a runway for the trucks to come in and out.

Clarke snuck into the docks many times with Finn throughout the years. They watched the small glimpse of sunrise visible when the big metal doors were fully open. Clarke dreamed of slipping through unnoticed and exploring the mountainside.

Not like this, though. Never like this.

Her palms were sweaty and she desperately swiped them on her pants, wondering how long it would take for Bellamy’s “opening” to appear.

The first fleet of trucks lined up at the dam as the door operators took their places.

Then, there was a fiery explosion, leaving Clarke with a flashing orange imprint on her closed eyelids.

The two trucks closest to the doors went flying, trailers and all, somersaulting through the air and crashing against the far wall of the dock with an impossibly loud sound of screeching metal. Another smaller explosion from one of the trucks sent debris ricocheting through the dock.

The huge metal doors crumpled inward as the vulnerable portion of the dam collapsed. Water gushed freely over broken chunks of cement and screaming people alike.

Clarke grit her teeth and rushed forward, dancing around confused drivers and loaders. Someone was calling for back up over their radio while someone else was crying nearby. Clarke stepped over a dead man covered in dust and tried not to think. There was only her and that hole in the dam. She could make it.

A hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist and she spun with her fist raised only to pause in confusion. “Mr. Collins?”

Ted Collins blinked back at her, a trickle of blood adorning one cheekbone. “Cohen? What are you doing here? It’s not safe…”

She shoved herself out of his grasp and sprinted. Shouts rang up around her as a dozen hands reached for her, but there were too many other things happening. Too many fires to put out. Too much death.

She ran for the gap in the dam, ignoring the screams and the broken bodies and she took a flying leap to ride the tumbling water down into darkness.

President Wells Jaha kept his hands folded serenely in front of him, counting his breaths as he processed the news. The eighteen year old girl in front of him definitely _looked_ like her fantastical story was true. Her face was covered in lacerations and her clothes were ripped and stained with mud. Most importantly though, she didn’t resemble his former best friend in anything except hair color and yet…

He took a long breath. “Prove it.”

She gave him a look which clearly said she’d been expecting that. “You accidentally starved your pet goldfish sophomore year of college and you immediately got another one because your dad was coming over and you were embarrassed.”

Wells stood up so quickly that his knees hit the desk with a jolt and his laptop rattled precariously.

“Clarke.”

Her smile isn’t familiar at all, but it still lights up the room. “Yeah.”

_circa. 2061_

Bellamy gunned the stolen motorcycle, silently urging it forward, willing the gas to stretch just a little further. The secluded road was hardly a step above gravel and the trees crowded so close that there was barely a shoulder. Thankfully, the seclusion meant he was getting close.

It had been thirty years since he last saw Clarke Griffin. Eighteen and scared, wearing baggy sweatpants that slung low around her waist and a face that made him want to pull her into the safety of his arms.

He dodged another low hanging branch and grimaced.

Correction, it had been two months since he last saw Clarke Griffin. Or Presley, as the name on the news ticker emphasized. He’d barely caught a glimpse of the report. A missing teenaged girl, suspected to be a runaway. Another pretty face in a sea of thousands that would probably turn up dead in a few years. But all it took was one glimpse and he saw _her_.

Twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.

He tried to shove the creeping thoughts to the far reaches of his mind. Recognizing Clarke meant that it was possible to remember people somehow. Not just to remember, but to reconnect. And if that was possible, everything he ever tried to do for Octavia was not just pointless, but utterly insignificant.

So instead he chanted his denial over and over to himself, even as he dropped everything and went searching for Clarke. He couldn’t have said why. In over two thousand years on earth, Bellamy learned to live in a constant state of cool and collected strategy. More rational than the most logical of mathematicians. But with Clark he acted on instinct. Heart ruling over head.

He hated and loved it.

The Heda summer home loomed ahead, abandoned as the fall season drew ever closer to winter. The trees thinned enough to make room for an imposing gate which Bellamy slowly puttered up to before dropping his kickstand. The road was noticeably better kept on the other side of the gate and the lawns were fairly well manicured; the last few remnants of a summer past. He eyed the winding path up to the large house at the top of the hill and took a deep breath.

Clarke was there.

Bellamy took two steps and launched himself up high enough to catch the top of the gate, easily swinging himself up and over to the other side.

Brown leaves scattered before his footsteps as he jogged lightly up to the house. Instinct forced him towards caution and stealth, even though the Heda family was no danger to him. The Resistance had been fighting a war of smoke and daggers for long enough that the suspicion was second-nature to him now and he fought it back, forcing himself to step up to the front porch and knock firmly at the door.

For a few seconds there was no sound but the wind whistling through the treetops. Then he caught the faint sound of footsteps somewhere inside and despite himself he tensed.

The moment of truth.

The girl who opened the door was dark skinned, red-tinged hair tied back in long dreadlocks. Her high-set cheekbones and strong forehead along with the low cut lingerie she was sporting were all utterly alien to him. Yet at the same time, as he stared in her eyes, he saw the puzzle pieces fall into place in her soul and her jaded stare immediately softened into one of wonder.

“Bellamy?”

He knew if he were to look in the mirror, he looked nothing like Doctor Alvin from Mount Weather. That man died nearly thirty years ago, pinned down and tortured by Mountain Men for his betrayal.

And yet, the girl knew him, just as he knew her beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Clarke,” he whispered and she launched herself into his arms.

He held her, nose pressed to her hair, inhaling the scent of _her_. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt at peace.

She started to reluctantly pull back, but Bellamy seized the moment and held her tighter, pressing his forehead to her own with a sigh of relief.

“Thank god,” he said softly. “Thank god.”

“Bellamy…”

“I had no idea what happened to you. No one knew.”

“Bellamy!”

Her voice was sharp and he pulled back from her in surprise. “What?”

Her mouth opened slightly and then she closed it again, looking unsure and worried.

Without thinking, Bellamy reached out and brushed her hair back from her face. The last time they met, their age difference kept him from examining his feelings for her. Now, his longing for her stirred through his veins once more. It scared him in more ways than one.

Clarke flinched back slightly from his touch and suddenly the world came crashing down around him as an unfamiliar voice echoed from the room behind her.

“Pres? Who’s at the door?”

Just coming into view over Clarke’s shoulder was a slender woman, brown hair falling in soft waves to her waist, hurriedly tying the sash of a bathrobe.

“Just a minute, Lexa. I’ve got it,” Clarke said, not taking her eyes off of Bellamy. His heart dropped down into the pit of his gut.

Lexa drew closer to the doorway, ignoring Clarke’s words. “Who is that?”

“He’s… an old acquaintance,” Clarke stuttered. She stepped back and held the door halfway closed. “He was just leaving.”

“Wait!” Bellamy’s mind spun. “I came all the way here to find you. To find out why you disappeared!”

“Why do you think?” she asked softly. She glanced briefly back over her shoulder, where Lexa waited patiently, gaze sharp.

“You…” He licked his lips nervously, desperately scrambling for professionalism. “But what about the Resistance? You started the war!”

“Yeah, after my best friend was shot and killed for daring to speak out against a terrorist group!” she snapped back. “After I was hunted like a dog for years while I tried to find other Rems.”

“And it worked,” Bellamy insisted. “You started something, Clarke. President Jaha became a martyr and then you pushed people to take action. The Resistance is fighting back against the Mountain Men and they’re winning!”

Clarke glared at him, dead leaves blowing up across the doorstep and brushing her bare toes. “His name was Wells.”

Her voice was biting and a chill ran down Bellamy’s spine. “You’re not coming back,” he mumbled.

She licked her lips, brow furrowed. “Look, Bellamy. I… I care about you, but I deserve at least one lifetime where I can just… live. Not just survive, but _live_!”

Bellamy narrowed his gaze. “And what about everyone else?”

Clarke stared pointedly at her feet. “I would advise them to do the same.”

He firmed his jaw.

“Your friend Raven had a breakthrough in her Rem research.”

Clarke’s head shot up.

“She figured out how to combine biological and artificial neural pathways. She isolated the memory core for Rem memories.”

Clarke shifted, seemingly nervous. “So?”

“So, they’re using her work to infect Rems. To make us forget.”

They stared at each other, the space between them filling with everything unspoken.

Clarke finally shrugged heavily. Her eyes were weary. “So what? So we forget. Then we can rest, right? Stop grieving and struggling and just… forget.”

Bellamy barely kept his jaw from dropping. “You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t you want to forget?” she pleaded, suddenly earnest. “About all the lifetimes of pain and death? About your sister?”

He saw red for just a second and then pulled himself back, visibly struggling with his words. “Leave her out of this.”

“Maybe she just wanted to forget too-”

“I said, leave her out of this!” he shouted. Clarke took another step back. The door was between them now, just open a crack.

Bellamy shivered and reached a placating hand towards her. “Wait, Clarke. You need to come back with me.”

“I’m sorry, Bell,” she said softly and then the door shut with a soft click.

Bellamy tried to resist when Pike introduced his plans for a full offensive. Wiping out entire townships near Mount Weather seemed drastic, but the plan really did make sense and Bellamy was so tired of fighting from the shadows.

So the Resistance rose like phoenix fire and wiped out entire populations of Mountain Men and their supporters. The country was thrown into an uproar, riots plaguing cities both big and small. President Cage Wallace, just as open a supporter of the terrorists as his father had been, declared war and the official military was deployed. Bellamy’s world was one flaming ball of chaos and death, but it was finally on his terms. Finally, worth everything.

Then, he held Monroe as she died in his arms and he cried because this time she wasn’t coming back. Not with the ALIE virus crawling through her brain and shutting her down little by little. Raven’s work was thorough.

And after the funeral as he stalked back into his office and slammed the door, fingers tugging roughly at his tie, the last person he wanted to see was Clarke Griffin sitting behind his desk. She stood up quickly, almost apologetically.

“Bellamy-”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled before he could curb his tongue. He threw the tie down on the ground and grabbed the nearest bottle from the liquor cabinet.

“I… came to see you.”

“Well, great. Here I am,” he spat. He tossed back a gulp of rum straight from the bottle and grimaced at the burn.

Clarke’s face was a mask of fear and her eyes were ringed in red. Somewhere deep inside he knew he should care about that, but the rest of his heart goaded him onward. Deeper into the rising storm of anger. He took another long swig.

Clarke took a deep breath. “Lexa is dead.”

Bellamy blinked at her. Stunned, despite everything.

A single tear trickled down Clarke’s cheek. “I had to come back and help. You were right.”

Bellamy dropped heavily into one of the guest chairs. “What happened?”

Clarke’s eyes hardened. “They came for me. I don’t know what sort of trail I left, but it led them straight to me. And Lexa…”

Her hands flew up to her mouth and she issued a choked sob. Bellamy carefully set his rum down, already feeling a slight buzz.

Clarke was crying in his office. And for some reason that was the last straw.

“You left,” he said slowly. His words shook with barely contained fury, spilling out on top of each other. “You left me when I needed you.”

“You left me!” Clarke screamed suddenly, slamming both fists down on his desk. Stacks of paper trembled and one lone sheet wafted slowly to the floor.

“You left me again, after you promised not to,” she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You sent me out of that Mountain alone and I… I figured everything out. And you got to stay behind and die like a _coward_.”

It would have hurt less to have her hands around his neck. Bellamy shoved himself out of his chair abruptly.

“What do you want from me, Clarke? I tried to teach you _everything_ you needed to survive and you keep throwing it away! I’ve warned you and warned you and you won’t listen!”

“I came back!” she yelled. They were almost toe to toe now, faces so close he could smell her breath. “I came back here for you!”

Bellamy grabbed her shoulders and he was drunk, he knew he was drunk, but she was already leaning up and they were like magnets yanking each other closer until their lips met.

It was sloppy and harsh and more like a slap to the face than any kiss he’d had before. He pulled away and stared into her wide eyes.

“Clarke…”

“How?”

“How what?” he stuttered.

She fidgeted, but didn’t pull away.

“How do we recognize each other? In every life? In every new body? You said it’s impossible.”

Bellamy stared at her, her eyes still wet and cheeks flushed. “I don’t know.”

“We belong together.”

His heart fluttered. “Clarke….”

“I’m not saying like this!” she took another step back and he immediately missed the warmth of her body pressed against her own. “Just… somehow, we need to be together. Work together. So the world makes sense.”

His head spun and he wanted to lean his weight on the chair behind him, but he also desperately wanted to pull Clarke back for another kiss. To show her that they belonged together in more ways than one. But instead he blinked dumbly at his hands. Hands that were too clumsy to touch her shoulders again.

“Bell?”

“I think you’re right,” he said slowly, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. When he looked back at her, Clarke smiled even through her tears and Bellamy’s heart lifted slightly. But she carefully moved away from him and he had to bite his lip to keep from calling her back.

Maybe soulmates are meant to be platonic.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he finally said, just to fill the silence.

Clarke sniffed and grabbed the rum. “Me too.”

_circa. 2100_

Clarke’s head lolled to one side, arms clamped tightly by the Mountain Men as they dragged her forward. There was no use in fighting back. She lost her gun hours earlier. Before her and Bellamy went running head-long into danger. Before she watched in horror as Agent Jasper Jordan grabbed a syringe of the ALIE virus and injected it into his own body with a fanatical smile. Before they infiltrated the fucking mountain and actually had the gall to think they stood a chance.

She knew better now.

They dragged her limply through halls that were achingly familiar. She saw flashes of Finn and Raven everywhere, peering at her from the darkened corners. She knew it was just a nostalgic illusion. The lower wards were nothing but army barracks and supply rooms. No more schools and family homes here.

The soldiers slammed open a door and unceremoniously flung her inside the cell. Clarke crumpled in a corner, a stitch in her side keeping her tucked in a ball and gasping for breath.

“Throw the other one in,” a rough voice called out and then another warm body landed with a thump on the cement floor next to Clarke. The door swung shut with another loud clang and the cell was enveloped in thick darkness.

Clarke groped for the nearby figure, fingers desperately searching out human contact.

“Bellamy?”

“I’m here,” he said weakly. He’d been shot. Several times. Clarke reached out trembling palms and found the worst wound just off-center in his abdomen. As she pressed, she felt more warm blood leaking out and Bellamy gave a strained grunt.

“Talk to me,” Clarke said nervously, glad the darkness hid her face. “Tell me about Octavia.”

Bellamy hissed sharply through his teeth a few times before he relaxed enough to talk, his voice taking on that faraway quality it usually did when he thought about his sister.

“She’s a Rem like us,” he whispered. “In our first life she was beautiful. Her hair was so long and shining. She used to braid flowers into it. And when she stood next to the stream and watched the dragonflies kiss the water, she laughed just because she was happy.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as she pictured sunshine and dragonflies flitting somewhere far away from the dark corner of hell they were trapped in now.

“I searched for her for lifetimes. I never stopped looking,” Bellamy said, pain weaving through his tone. “But when I found her, she was in love with someone. He wasn’t a Rem. And after he died, she went crazy with grief. She wanted to find him. So she left.”

He heaved a deep sigh and leaned his head on Clarke’s arm. “The girl doomed to wander the earth forever, seeking her lost love.”

Clarke’s breath ghosted over Bellamy’s curls. “It sounds like a fairytale.”

“Not one with a happy ending.”

She couldn’t lift her hands to comfort him so instead she leaned down and nuzzled her forehead against his own. Even in the pitch black, she could feel his eyes piercing through her.

“Clarke…”

For lifetimes, she resisted the siren call pulling her towards him. They kissed once and she tasted the anger and the rum on his breath and she knew it was a mistake. She was still grieving Lexa and the loss of a life she thought she could have and he was something to fill a gaping hole in her heart. That was all.

But as more years passed and another lifetime and she recognized Bellamy in a stranger’s face again, she realized she was delaying something inevitable. Something that drew their souls together over and over.

And now…. How could she say that now while they waited together to die?

“Clarke, I’m sorry.”

He was crying and Clarke pushed back her confusion. “Bellamy, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“I know, but…” He swallowed hard. “One of the bullets. It was a virus carrier.”

Clarke closed her eyes, as if she could shield herself from the rush of hopelessness that threatened to swallow her whole.

In the years since the world-renowned Dr. Reyes had perfected the ALIE virus, the Mountain Men had weaponized it efficiently. It could be injected, swallowed, or even delivered via bullets. The biological computer virus quickly crawled into the brain and devoured it. Death was usually quick, but painful. And final.

And now it was stealing away the man she loved.

Loved? Did she love Bellamy?

Clarke pressed down further, letting her lips tilt until they rested on Bellamy’s forehead. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Tears ran down her face and mingled with the blood seeping up between her fingers. “You can’t leave me again! You always leave me!”

“I don’t want to.” His voice is faint.

“No,” her eyes shot open, her world momentarily alight with clarity. “No, it’s not over.”

Bellamy coughed. “Clarke, it’s time for me to go. You can go on.”

Clarke shook her head angrily. “You know the way. You know what we could do.”

Bellamy was silent for a long moment and Clarke held her breath. “I can’t. Not this time.”

“Bellamy, please,” she cried. “Before it’s too late.”

“I would still be leaving you,” he said wryly.

“But I would get you back,” she yelled.

Bellamy scoffed. “There’s no point. You said it yourself years ago. Why do we keep trying to survive instead of just live?”

Clarke fumbled, trying to find words.

Bellamy shifted in her lap slightly. “I’m so tired.”

Clarke took a shaky breath. “I want to live. But I want to live with you.”

“Why?”

His question was sharp. Pointed. Everything she avoided for lifetimes.

“Because I love you.”

The words tumbled out haphazardly. It was all wrong. She was supposed to tell him when they were happy. When the war was over. When they were bathing in sunshine on a tropical beach somewhere. Not in a dark hole where the cold clung to her bones and his blood coated her hands in a sticky film she wouldn’t be able to scrub off.

Bellamy’s breaths were short and harsh. “You love me?”

She would know his voice in a thousand lifetimes and it would always make her heart beat faster.

“Yes.”

She kissed him and the fire that filled her soul would be enough to burn down the damn mountain if she could let it out. His kiss was breathless and when she pulled back he whimpered, but his hands were strong as he reached up and cupped her chin.

“I love you too, Princess,” he whispered.

Clarke left one more gentle kiss in the warm palm of his hand. “So let me find you again. Trust me.”

His fingers ran softly along her lips and despite everything she couldn’t help the slight smile he traced.

“Okay.” His voice was warm and steady. Happy, for the first time in a long time.

Clarke doesn’t let herself hesitate as she moves her hands from his wound and up to his throat. Bellamy was a good teacher. She knew how to kill a man faster than any virus.

The battle outside took hours, but eventually the main Resistance forces caught up with the brave infiltration team. As Rem soldiers swarm through the mountain, liberating every prisoner, the door to the cell was thrown down and Clarke crawled weakly into the light.

Multiple voices clamored for information as they ushered her to safety, but Clarke doesn’t even look back at the corpse she left behind. The mountain had finally fallen. The war was over.

Bellamy would be waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Final Round of the 100 Chopped Challenge and was required to use the tropes:  
1\. Reincarnation  
2\. Soulmates  
3\. Forehead touches  
4\. Free space - Teacher!Bellamy
> 
> Title taken from the poem The Final Thought by Maurice Thompson. If you like this fic please leave me a comment!


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